


then let fall your horrible pleasure

by hoosierbitch



Category: White Collar
Genre: BDSM, Bloodplay, Dom/sub, F/M, M/M, Nipple Play, Painplay, Piercing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-26
Updated: 2010-06-09
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:22:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoosierbitch/pseuds/hoosierbitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/collarkink/"></a><b>collarkink</b>  prompt: "I would love to read a fic with Neal having some erotic piercings (nipples, genital area, corset temporary piercing)."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a poem of the same name by Tim Ross.

He didn't realize quite  how much he'd missed it until the first needle pierced his skin. Deep enough that the push was longer than his exhale and he could feel the metal moving through his flesh - the first of twenty rings and he already felt like the world was brighter, sharper. The piercer laughed. "Wow, you really do get off on this, huh?" Neal didn't reply. "Alright, baby, take a deep breath - " he could feel the clamp pinching his skin - "and exhale." Again the push lasted longer than his breath and his cock began to harden against the table.

*

Of course Peter noticed. That was just the way Neal's life was going - couldn't catch a break, that was Neal Caffrey in a nutshell. Peter'd put a hand on his back to escort him out of his office for lunch and Neal (the piercings were still sore, every time he leaned over it hurt, his cock surged, he'd start to sweat) flinched.

"Are you hurt?" Peter asked him.

"No," he said, trying to edge away - which he should have known was like waving red flag in front of a bull. Peter grabbed his shoulder, then started patting his back. Neal hissed (it felt so_ good_, Peter's hands against him).

"What the hell happened to you, Caffrey?"

"Nothing - I just took a spill down the stairs. I'm a little bruised."

Peter ran a cautious hand across the entire span of his back and Neal failed to stifle his moan. "That's it. take your shirt off and let me see."

"I swear it's nothing! You're such a worrywart." Peter slapped a hand against the small of his back and Neal convulsed with a shout. "Fuck!"

"Yeah, that really seems like' nothing.' Take your shirt off or I'll take it off for you."

"Not here," Neal said, mindful of the glass walls, the other agents' prying eyes. "Bathroom?"

"Fine." Neal readjusted himself surreptitiously as they left. He could get through this. He could.

*

He'd gotten his ears pierced when he was 14. He'd been rebelling, it was impetious, he'd had sex with the piercer right afterwards (he'd bit Neal's ears bloody), it was the best day of his young life. They'd dated for months and Dan had eagerly introduced Neal to the world of play piercing. He'd done bindings on Neal's calves, rows of barbells along his collarbones, sweet little gold surface piercings on his hips. He got arrested for dealing drugs before he'd gotten to Neal's dick or nipples. Neal'd stopped, after that, for years. Even taken his earrings out (too memorable, charming man with earrings). The memories of it faded. And then he met Moz.

*

The bathroom wasn't empty when they got there and they loitered awkwardly by the sink until Fred shook himself off and left (ew, without washing his hands). "Alright. Strip."

The sound of Peter locking the door was like a starter's gun. Neal tried to steady his breathing, keep his composure, but he could see himself in the mirror - cheeks flushed, his lips red from biting them nervously, his fingers jerky as he unbuttoned his shirt. His flush was spreading down his chest, past his collarbones. He couldn't help but think of the corset binding he'd had done on his neck nine years ago in Amsterdam and how naked he looked without it.

He slid his shirt off his shoulders slowly, watching himself in the mirror like a twisted strip-tease, savoring each snag of the fabric against the rings, the metal chain threading between them. Ten rings on each side and the silver binding them all together. It started right underneath his shoulderblades and wove itself down to the dip of his back into his buttocks, like a corset, like an arrow.

"I told you I wasn't hurt," he said. And he didn't feel ashamed, standing half-dressed in front of Peter, revealing his biggest kink, letting Peter know how twisted he was. Because Peter's hand was already raised to touch him.

The piercings were three days old but when Peter brushed his fingers tentatively against the top two they _burned_. Neal's breath shuddered out of him in a gasp. When Peter tugged tentatively on the chain he couldn't help it, he leaned back, until his back was pressed against Peter's chest (oh, god, they caught on the buttons of Peter's shirt it hurt it was so perfect). He could see Peter's face over his shoulder - his lips were open, his eyes were dark. Neal rolled his hips against him and felt (_thank god_) Peter's erection.

*

Moz had played with needles. Thin metal capped with plastic, not permanent, they only stayed in a single session. Like monks who would create beautiful mosaics and destroy them immediately after. Moz had dozens of colors and sizes but didn't take any pictures before he pulled them out and wiped up the blood.

He'd started with straight lines. Down Neal's arms, his thighs, rows like wings down his back. Then he'd make Neal serve him for an hour or two before removing them. Fetch him a drink, get him a book, turn up the volume on the tv, stand and let Moz stare at him. Like Neal was a painting and he was deciding which part of his apartment to put him in. Like Neal's suffering was part of the work itself. He'd let Neal jack off when he pulled the needles back out (hands steady, movements sure) but he never took part. It wasn't sexual, for Moz, it was art.

After lines he'd done circles. He went patriotic for a while and did rings of white, then blue, then red around Neal's bellybutton, his nipples, radiating out from this shoulder blades. Neal's sweat would run pink and he'd drip with precum and Moz would add another needle.

*

"What - what is this?"

"It's called a corset piercing, Peter. Do you like it?" And he writhed against Peter, making eye contact with him in the mirror before licking his lips and closing his eyes.

Peter pushed him forward until he had to brace himself against the counter. "Does it hurt?" And he touched Neal curiously, carefully. Traced the hourglass curve it hinted at along Neal's ribs.

"Yes," Neal said. Peter's hands froze from where they'd spread along his hips. "It's supposed to." Peter stepped up behind him and pressed his dick into the curve of Neal's ass, tightened his hands on Neal's waist, bent him forward until the chain was pulled taut and a helpless whine spilled from Neal's lips.

"You get off on this?" Peter asked, running two fingers down the line of Neal's spine (catching on the chain, tugging at the rings, Neal rubbed himself against the sink with each sharp twinge).

"Yes," he gasped, wishing he had the slack in the chain to fall forward against the counter, to brace himself better. To rock himself against the hot line of Peter's cock behind him. But if he moved he'd tear something, if he moved he thought he might come.

"How long have you been wearing this? Under your suits? Were you wearing this when I was chasing you?"

"I've only had this since Friday," Neal admitted. "And yes. Sometimes when you chased me - " Neal closed his eyes and thought of Kate.

*

Kate had pushed his limits. Limits he hadn't known he had. She'd fucked herself on his cock and pushed the piercing needles through his chest until he screamed. She would put rings in his cock, new piercings each time they played so they'd be as tender as possible, and twist it while fucking him with her strap-on. She'd weave her needles in and out and back into his flesh so that if he moved they'd twist inside of him. Kate had enjoyed hurting him almost more than he enjoyed being hurt, but he never came harder than he did in those sessions with Kate.

He hadn't had anything in when Peter had arrested him, but his cock had been raw, his back spotted with holes. Prison had left him feeling off-balance in so many ways - getting pierced again after Peter set him free felt like a step towards becoming himself again.

*

"Do you have any other piercings now?" Peter asked him, interrupting his train of thought. He pinched Neal's nipples like he was double-checking the evidence of his eyes and then twisted them until Neal felt like he was trying to pull them off, like they were on _fire_, Peter dug his fingernails into them and pulled.

"Fuck! Oh, _god_, Peter, those are all I have right now, I swear - " Peter slapped his nipples before  moving his hands down Neal's torso.

"You've had your nipples pierced before, though, right?"

"No," Neal said, voice hoarse. He'd had needles through them, but that was it - Kate hadn't liked the way they'd show through his t-shirts. Peter's hands seemed so big on Neal's hips, pushing his slacks furthur down his hips. Neal's nipples were an angry red, the skin around them irritated.

"But you do like your nipples played with, don't you, baby" Peter asked, and his fingertips were brushing against Neal's aching cock.

Not nearly the pressure he needed, he wanted Peter to touch him so badly - "yes," he nearly cried when Peter palmed his cock.

"Nice," Peter murmured. Neal wanted to return the compliment, he could feel the size of Peter's dick where it was rutting against his ass, but then Peter squeezed his cock and all his words evaporated. He looked like a whore. He was so close to his reflection he couldn't deny the way he was bending for Peter, half-naked and pale against Peter's dark suit jacket. Then Peter stopped touching him and all he could see was the pensive look on Peter's face. "Do you think you could come without me touching your cock?" And he grabbed the bottom two rings in Neal's back and started rotating them.

He spun them until the captive beads were denting his skin, then spun them the other way. Neal felt tight and hot and swollen everywhere Peter touched him. Then Peter tugged on the rings and he had to bite down on his fist to keep from screaming. Peter pulled them hard, and Neal struggled to move backwards and relieve the pressure. "No," Peter told him gently, his hand between Neal's shoulder blades holding him down. "If you want me to stop, say stop, and I'll jerk you off and we can pretend this never happened. Or," and he leaned forward to breathe his words into Neal's ear, to torture the sore flesh on his back, "I can make you come in your pants and then take you home, put nipple clamps on you, and fuck you until you come screaming my name."

If Neal had enough control he would have opened his eyes to see if Peter looked sincere, he would have asked Peter if he was sure, he would have said _please_. But he was too close to the edge, the pain from his nipples forgotten in the mindnumbing strain of his cock against the edge of the counter, the weight of Peter pressing him against it, and the terrifying pull of his piercings. "I'll take that as a yes," Peter said, and he moved up to the next set of rings. He repeated the pattern for all ten rows, turning them so they rotated through Neal's abused flesh and then pulling them back, to each side, he could feel small drops of blood dripping down to soak into his slacks. Peter licked at the sweat on his neck and bit into his shoulder.

It hadn't been like this with Dan, or Moz, or even Kate - Peter was so in control, Peter was so methodical, Peter so obviously _wanted_ him - then he strummed his fingers against the chain like he was playing a harp, and Neal sobbed into the fist he'd bitten near bloody.

"You're going to come for me," Peter said, "you're going to come _just like this_. And then you're going to spend the whole afternoon with your cum in your boxers. You're going to sit at your desk, all the way back in your chair, and you're going to get hard again just thinking about what I made you do. And what I'm going to do to you as soon as we get home."

_Home_, Neal thought, before Peter started tightening each section of the chain. He prayed to come. He tried to beg his own cock, just come, just shoot, just do it. He could already feel the moisture in his boxers from his precum, a new spurt every time Peter growled in his ear or bit his neck or the chain slid against the rings and he felt the vibrations down to his toes.

Peter held the extra length of chain he'd gathered in his left hand, pinched his nipple hard with the right, and leaned over Neal's shoulder. Neal turned his head towards him and opened his mouth for a kiss. Peter tugged, pinched, and whispered the order to come against his lips. Neal screamed into his mouth and obeyed.


	2. i'll take your hand, you'll scream my name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First, Peter bent him over the sink in the bathroom and made him come so hard he blacked out. Then, he took him out for sandwiches.

First, Peter bent him over the sink in the bathroom and made him come so hard he blacked out. Then, he took him out for sandwiches. "I think you're doing this backwards," Neal said slowly. "Aren't we supposed to date _before_ we go all the way?"

"If you really want to wait until we've gone out a few times before I take you home and fuck you till you cry, then, sure; we can do that," Peter replied, taking a sip of his iced tea.

Neal failed to stifle the shudder that ran through his body, from his tense shoulders down his back, which screamed with pain every time he breathed – and then down through every inch of his aching cock which was trying valiantly to harden, still covered in his own come.

"No, I – I think we can safely accelerate the timeline," he replied in a voice an octave or two higher than normal. "And how the hell can you say shit like that without – without – you can't flirt to save your life!"

"This isn't flirting," Peter said with a frown. "It's just honesty. I'm not trying to convince you of anything, I'm not pretending to be someone else, and I already know what you want."

Neal took as deep a breath as his corset piercing allowed for. "And what do you think I want?"

Peter added another packet of sugar to his iced tea and looked him over. "I think you want to be hurt. I think you want someone to make you hurt. Distract you from all the thoughts flying around in your head. I don't think you can follow rules without knowing that they're going to be enforced – but I think you're going to do whatever I tell you to do. Just because I told you to do it. Am I right?"

Neal, whose groin was a mess of cum because Peter had told him not to clean himself off, who was sitting all the way back in his seat – pressing his swollen piercings against the metal because Peter had told him he wasn't allowed to do otherwise – just nodded.

"So," Peter said, pushing Neal's glass of water towards him and smiling when he took a sip. "What do you not want me to do to do?"

Neal thought about it. Moz has asked him that, too, years before – had set up very firm boundaries for both of them. "I'm not into watersports," he said, and he could see Peter go into his mental note-taking-mode. If he had his interview notepad with him, Neal was convinced he would have pulled it out. "I don't do scatplay. You can – you can do whatever you want to me, basically, otherwise. You can beat my cock," and he flushed crimson, because they were out in public and their waitress could come up any second and Peter was just nodding and listening as if this was perfectly normal. "You can – you can call me names, insult me – I kind of like that. But if you – if you tie me up – even if I can get out by myself – I don't want you to be cruel."

Peter paused, and when he didn't continue, reached over and help his hand. And even that small, casual contact made Neal shiver. "Thank you for being honest," Peter said. "Can you tell me if there's a reason you don't like being tied down?"

"No," he said, staring at Peter's hand over his. "I _do_ like being tied down. It's just – I get lost, sometimes, when things get heavy. And I have a hard time coming back out, if I'm tied up." He liked feeling owned. He didn't like feeling trapped.

"I can work with that," Peter murmured, looking at him like he was deciding where he wanted to brand him first. The sandwiches came and Neal had a hard time eating – his stomach was in knots. But when he didn't touch his sandwich, Peter pushed his plate closer to him. "Eat up. You're going to need your energy."

Neal had a hard time finishing his sandwich because his mouth was suddenly bone dry. Somehow, he still ate every bite.

"We'll work out safewords when we get home," Peter said after he paid the bill. "You get to change your mind at any time. About anything we do. No repercussions. Can you promise me you'll do that?"

"Yes," Neal said. His back was burning but the only sensation he could concentrate on was the tingle in his hand from where Peter had touched him. "I – I have one more rule," he said, and he knew it wasn't his place and wasn't his business but he had to know. "I don't want to be responsible for screwing up your marriage."

Peter – Peter smiled at him, for that. Smiled and rested his head on his hand like he couldn't believe what Neal had said. "You're a good man," Peter said, and it was barely a compliment but he could feel himself flush from head to toe. "El and I talked this over a long time ago."

"Yeah?" Neal said, and he wondered how long Peter had wanted to jump his bones.

"We don't exactly have an open marriage – but there were a few years when I was at work a bit too much. And El…she got lonely."

Neal couldn't imagine them as anything other than the perfect united front they'd presented every single time he'd seen them together. "I don't want to take you away from her again," Neal said. "I mean – I don't know what she wants, but if she wants me – I mean, with you – I could – I've never done it before, but – "

Peter quieted him by touching the back of his wrist with two fingers. "One step at a time. Right now, we are going to go back to work. And you are going to go to the bathroom before 5 o'clock and jack off again. You can lick up your cum, if you don't want to come back covered in it."

He smiled when Neal didn't protest. But he looked a little confused when he stood up to leave and Neal didn't follow him. "I've – I've got a bit of a problem," Neal admitted. His cock was demonstrating its enthusiasm for Peter's plan by tenting his pants in a truly uncomfortable fashion.

Peter handed Neal his jacket, which helped to conceal his erection. But then put his hand on the back of Neal's neck to guide him back to the car. He'd never had so much trouble walking a straight line in his entire life.

* * *

He jacked off right after they got back to the office. He came embarrassingly quickly, no more than a minute or two of teasing the head of his cock and stroking his balls before he was coming all over his hand. Imaging all the things Peter would do to him. Spank him, bite him, fuck him, tease him and leave him – he licked his come off of his hand and remembered Peter's hand resting on his. He was half-hard again by the time he got back to his desk.

* * *

Peter fondled Neal's dick for most of the ride home. He kept asking Neal questions – how did his case go, what did he think of Jones' attempt at growing a goatee, did he think the traffic would be lighter on 9th - by the time he pulled up in front of their house Neal was ready to scream. From having to answer Peter's questions (every time he didn't, Peter slapped his dick through his pants), from the growing desire to come ("Not until I tell you to,") and from the almost overwhelming pain of his twelve raw piercings pressed against the seat.

El was waiting for them when they went inside. She looked at his crotch and shot him a sympathetic smile. "Peter's not going easy on you, is he?" Neal shook his head and stayed right inside the door. Peter walked in and sat down next to his wife. Neal waited until Peter told him what to do.

"Are you well-trained, or just a natural?" Peter asked. Neal thought of Kate, and Moz, and Dan, the other nameless, faceless people who'd given him orders and enjoyed it more when he didn't obey than when he did.

"A bit of both," he answered. "But none of them – nothing was like this." He licked his lips and waited, hands at his sides, wet spot growing in the front of his pants.

"I've got some ground rules," El said. "Are you clear enough to listen?" He nodded. He wouldn't be for much longer, but he was now. "Okay. I want to make this very clear – Peter was mine first. He is my husband, he has been my partner for ten years, and I'll be damned if I give up any more of his time than his job demands." Neal nodded again and tried to figure out why Peter had said there was any sort of chance for them at all.

"That being said – Peter has spent more time at home since you started working with him that he has in years. He calls when he's going to be late, he picks up dinner, he sends flowers – well, flowers arrive with his name on the card." He looked back and forth between their faces. They seemed more amused than displeased about his little deception. "So if you want to spend time with him, you'll do it here. There's a guest bedroom, there's plenty of food in the pantry, and I have never once resented your presence at our table. I don't imagine I'll start now. Especially if you're kneeling on the floor by Peter's feet."

Neal moaned and swayed forward, he was going to come, if Peter just told him to – but El wasn't finished. "I'm not going to be angry if you take a night or two for dinner alone together, or a weekend every now and then – and I expect you to return the favor." He nodded. "And maybe you and I can get some time of our own. We can buy go shopping," she said with a laugh. "Get some suits for Peter. Some shoes for me. Some lingerie for you, maybe."

He was dreaming. He had to be. There was no way this was really happening. "Peter and I tried to play, way back when we started. It didn't work – I fought back," she said, and Peter smiled at her and Neal basked in the reflected warmth and love and understanding. "We've been to some clubs – he knows what he's doing. He's not going to hurt you more than he should. If you ever want another person to be present, I'm good at being unobtrusive. And I wouldn't mind watching a time or two. You're not going to take him from me," she said, and there was a ring on her finger and Neal's hands were dirty with his own semen, he wasn't going to argue with her. "But I don't mind sharing. Not with you."

"Is that okay with you?" Peter asked, and just the sound of his voice made Neal tremble. "You're allowed to answer me."

"Yes," he said.

"Good. Now we're going to go upstairs and I'm going to make good on my promises." Peter was going to fuck him. Peter was going to fuck him until he cried. "El's going to be in the house – if you ever feel unsafe, if I ever make you feel unsafe, you just yell her name, and she'll be there," Peter said, and he was standing and moving closer, this was real, it was happening, he got to have this – Peter kissed him. Peter kissed him, and one of his hands was around Neal's waist and the other was cradling his jaw, tilting him just the way Peter wanted. Then the hand on his waist slipped underneath his shirt. And tugged on the chain twined in his piercings. And Neal whimpered. It was going to be a good night.


	3. crawl under my skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now take your clothes off and get on your goddamn knees, or I'll spank you so hard you won't be able to sit down without screaming.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been looking forward to this. Since long before he'd taken Neal into the bathroom and seen the art Neal had pierced through his skin, bent him over the sink and tortured him until he'd come. Months longer. Since he'd first seen Neal talk to a victim, voice low and careful, body language submissive and patient.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wanted to take Neal home and make his body bend to Peter's whim. So instead of lying, he said nothing. He and Neal made their way up to the guest bedroom in silence. Matching hard-ons tenting their slacks. He'd played with Neal's dick the whole drive home. Teasing it and smacking it. He couldn't wait to play with Neal some more.

"If you want to change your mind," Neal said quietly when Peter closed the door behind them. "I'll understand. What you and – what you and Elizabeth have is a one of those once-in-a-lifetime things, and I – "

"I'm not going to change my mind," Peter said, because he'd been waiting for someone like Neal for years.

"But if you do," Neal continued. "It'll be okay. You said no strings attached, for me, right? And the same thing goes for you."

Peter smiled at him. And marveled at how honest Neal was when it came to love. Neal might not follow rules that dealt with money and property, might play fast and loose with the laws Peter'd vowed to uphold, but this – _this_ Neal understood. Probably better than Peter did.

"Fair enough," he agreed. "Fair enough. Now take your clothes off and get on your goddamn knees, or I'll spank you so hard you won't be able to sit down without screaming."

Neal moaned at the order, moaned and swayed on his feet as if the sound of Peter's voice (deep and certain and out of place in their beige suburban house) was the best thing he'd ever heard.

Neal stripped quickly. Tossed his clothes into the corner and then hesitated, looking around the room and then back at Peter. "On the floor," he directed. "At the foot of the bed." Neal hastily obeyed. He looked gratifyingly comfortable on his knees.

Then he gazed up at Peter through dark lashes, and Peter just – Peter _wanted._ Wanted to mark the smooth skin stretched out before him. Wanted to tangle his hands in Neal's hair and whip the piercings off his back and bite bruises into his skin and collar him, Peter – Peter wanted Neal. In his bed and on his knees and in the mornings, when he'd be sore and tired, in the evenings when he'd be like this, desperate with anticipation – he could see no end to his hunger.

"I'm going to try something," he said. "And if you don't like it, that's fine. We'll do something else. Okay?" Neal nodded, and Peter pulled Satchmo's leash from where he'd put it on the dresser. Dark, smooth leather, about six feet long. It would work perfectly.

He clipped the end of it onto the middle of Neal's corset piercing and then looped it around the bedpost before pulling it taut. Neal started to shuffle backwards when Peter pulled the leash a little tighter, but froze as soon as Peter raised an eyebrow. He was going to have so much fun with this.

"Is this okay with you?" he asked. "Or does this make you feel like you're tied down?" Neal shook his head. "You've got to talk to me, Neal, I'm not a mindreader. And I need to know what's going through your head."

Neal licked his lips and took a moment before answering. Peter could see him mentally pulling himself together. He palmed his cock. There was something beautiful about that little moment. Neal without his masks. Neal, just a little bit out of control. "I don't feel tied down," Neal said, shifting on his knees, tugging at the leash, moaning at the tight pressure on the rings.

"And do you have a safeword that you're used to?"

"Red," Neal whispered.

Peter nodded. "Good. If you use that, I'll stop whatever I'm doing, okay? And at least for a while, if you say no, or say stop - I'm going to stop. This isn't rape play. It gets to be too much, we'll take a break. Sound good?" Neal's cock was softening. Nerves setting in, maybe. Or maybe just the wait starting to get to him.

Peter wrapped the leather securely around his hand and pulled it tight. Neal moaned again, his cock jumping, a bit of precum dripping down onto his thighs.

Peter unzipped his slacks one-handed and pulled his cock out. "Suck it."

Neal shifted forward, trying to obey - and gasped when Peter didn't give him any slack. He couldn't quite reach. An inch too far away, even when he leaned forward as carefully as he could, craning his neck around. Peter waited. Neal would figure it out.

It took him another minute. And then he stuck his tongue out. And licked the very tip of Peter's cock.

He almost came. Just from that. The flicker of Caffrey's tongue against his slit, the image of his partner on his knees, every muscle straining because he wanted to make Peter feel good. The pain was evident on his face.

His own hand holding the leash firmly held Neal in place. If he let go, Neal would probably fall forward. "Good boy," he whispered, and Neal's eyelids fluttered shut, his tongue licking more aggressively. Peter gave him an inch more on the leash and Neal groaned gratefully.

He kissed the tip of Peter's cock before sucking on it. Pressed his lips right up against it. Peter rewarded him with a burst of precum, slicking up his lips. Neal licked them before he took the head of Peter's dick into his mouth.

"Oh," Peter said. "I almost forgot! Stay there, I've got to go get something." He let go of his leash and watched Neal's features crumple with pain, the tension and release of the chain settling through the rings in his back.

Then he went to the drawer where he kept his toys. Some of them were for him, some of them were for El, and some of them - some of them had been there for years. Taken out of their packaging and washed and set aside. Just - just waiting for someone to come along. Someone like Neal.

He found the nipple clamps and took them out. "You've really never had your nipples pierced?" he asked, turning around and letting Neal get an eyeful of the metal clamps and the chain connecting them. Neal's cock was so hard it was bumping up against his stomach.

"No," Neal said. "I've had – I've had needles put through them. But that was – that was just for a few minutes."

"I bet that hurt," Peter murmured, looking at Neal's pink nipples. It must have looked gorgeous. "Pinch them until they're hard for me, okay? Show me how you like it."

Neal nodded. And licked his fingers before he started playing with them. Peter gave up on being a passive participant and walked back over, shoved his cock into Neal's throat. "You just push my legs or hips if I go too deep or you can't breathe, baby, okay?" He waited until he felt the slight pressure of Neal trying to nod with Peter's dick in his mouth before he started fucking him. Picked up the leash, tugged it until Neal whimpered, and fucked his pretty little mouth.

"Now put this on," he ordered after a few minutes.

He handed Neal the nipple clamps and pulled out until just the head of his dick was in Neal's mouth. Neal sucked on it obediently while he tightened the clamps on his sore, swollen nipples. He hadn't been playing gently with himself, and his fingers were clumsy on the screws.

"Tighter," Peter chided him. Neal sucked harder and tightened the screws until he was trembling, trying to pull away from his own fingers but not wanting to stop sucking Peter's dick, trying to move forward but stopped by the tension of the leash.

Peter picked up the chain connecting the clamps and tugged it a few times to make sure it was secure. Then he sorted out the chain and the leash so that he could hold them taut in the same hand. So that he could pull Neal's flesh in opposite directions. His nipples were an angry, swollen red, drops of blood were trailing down from his piercings and over the curve of his tight ass. His cock was so hard, so wet with precum - Peter was pretty sure he was about to come.

"Hands behind your head," he whispered, and Neal obeyed. His arms were trembling. Peter watched him for a few minutes. Tugged randomly on the chain and leash. Watched Neal struggle to control himself, to obey, to let go. It would take a while for him to learn all of Neal's tells, all of his wants, all of his limits. He changed the position of his hand and pulled up on the nipple clamps until Neal had to raise himself up off the ground a few inches. His thighs started to shake with the strain of staying exactly in position. It was a good look on him.

"Can you come from this?" he asked. Neal shook his head. Sweat was starting to drip down his chest. "What else do you need?"

Neal moaned pitifully, but Peter wasn't going to relent. Neal had to get used to communicating with him. Even when it was embarrassing, even when it made him nervous – he'd get used to it. When he realized Peter was just going to keep waiting until he answered, Neal rolled his eyes. Peter tugged on the leash, hard, and Neal's back arched, his mouth opened on a soundless cry – another quick pull and Neal shouted, a hoarse, ugly sound, before Peter loosened his hold again. "What do you need?"

"Let me suck your cock," Neal whispered, voice shaking. "Just – please, just let me suck your cock."

"I didn't ask what you needed to do so that _I_ could come," Peter said, starting to get a bit frustrated. "I asked what you needed so that _you_ could come."

"Your cock," Neal said. "I can – and I'll come," he whispered, a blush staining his cheeks.

_Oh_.

Peter wished that El was there. To see Neal, so perfectly open, so absolutely beautiful. He knew he wouldn't be able to describe it correctly, wouldn't be able to get across the impact of seeing Neal, just like this. How powerful and trusted and careful Peter felt. How – how real Neal looked. Sweaty and hard and shaking, lips parted, waiting. It seemed wrong, to keep this to himself. Too important not to share with her.

He stepped forward and readjusted his hold on the leash and chain. "Put your hands on my hips. If it gets to be too much, you just push me away." Neal's hands settled on his hips. Neal's graceful fingers on his body, brushing the bit of skin over his slacks and under his shirt, his left thumb resting against the base of his cock – Neal hadn't touched him until now.

And for some reason, it felt – it felt shockingly intimate. Maybe the most intimate thing they'd done. No matter that he'd already made Neal come, ordered him around, seen him naked, seen him _honest_ \- the brush of Neal's thumb against his skin startled him. Neal's hands resettling, figuring out how they fit best on Peter's body – and it terrified him.

He said Neal's name, rough and quiet, and wished he'd thought to turn on the radio or something. The silence made him feel awkward. Uncomfortable. "Neal?"

Neal looked up at him. Familiar blue eyes, tangled hair, lips already swollen. And he realized – Neal already knew. What Peter had just realized. Had known at lunch, when he'd offered Peter his first out. When he'd insisted that Peter be careful. Talked about Elizabeth, and what this would mean for all of them – Neal had already known that this wasn't just going to be about sex. _Couldn't_ just be about sex. Not with what they'd gone through together, not with _who they were_ to each other.

Elizabeth must have known, too. Probably months before when she'd first started talking about how Neal looked at him. How he looked at Neal. Started talking about all the trips to the clubs he took that left him feeling out-of-place and still hungry, the toys he bought that he knew she wouldn't want to use.

"Are you sure?" he asked. And Neal's eyes softened. He smiled at Peter, small and grateful. And then he swallowed Peter's cock until his lips were pressed up against his own thumb, gently rubbing at the sensitive skin at the base of his cock. He took Peter's dick deep in his throat, his talented tongue working it for all he was worth.

Peter swore. Swore and then bent down so that he could run his hand down Neal's back. Over the piercings. Until his hand was slick with sweat and blood and Neal was swallowing convulsively around his cock.

Peter could feel his ribs expand as his breath hitched, as he started to sob. He was still careful with his teeth and eager with his lips and tongue and Peter stood up and grabbed the leash. And fucked Neal's throat and pulled at the chain until Neal screamed. Put one hand on the back of Neal's head, pulled him in until he was gagging on Peter's cock. Then he put his other hand on the leash and pulled it up, and to the sides, and then just as hard as he could without pulling the piercings out.

Neal came before he did.

He'd learn to wait until Peter gave him permission, but for now, he helped Neal finish. Fucked his throat as Neal writhed, semen splashing on his thighs and stomach. Held the leash still so that it only hurt when Neal moved, and Neal couldn't _help_ but move – the orgasm tore through his body with too much force. His fingernails dug into Peter's skin, but he didn't push him away. He pulled him closer.

Neal came first, but Peter wasn't far behind.

It spilled out of Neal's mouth. He swallowed as much of Peter's come as he could, but some of it escaped past his stretched lips. Neal's mouth overflowed with it, it dripped out of the corners of his mouth. Peter pulled at Neal's piercings until new tears spilled out of his mouth. And came even harder.

"Perfect," he murmured, pulling out and rubbing his thumb over Neal's cheekbones, waiting patiently while he caught his breath.

"You said," Neal whispered, voice hoarse (Peter's dick twitched, thinking about his bruised throat). "You said you'd fuck me."

"I did, didn't I?" He looked Neal over. He was utterly exhausted. His cock was limp between his thighs, his body covered with sweat and semen. "And I always keep my promises. But there's no rush," he said quietly, and Neal closed his eyes and looked away. His body sagged back against the bed.

"Yeah," Neal said quietly. "I'll just – just gotta clean up first." And then he actually tried to leave. He tried to fucking _go home_. Wrecked and tired and obviously a bit fragile, coming down from the rush of an intense day – Peter fought down the need to find every person who'd ever fucked Neal and made him take care of himself afterwards, and teach them all a goddamn lesson about how to treat your sub. Neal started to stand up but all it took to get him to stop was a hand on his shoulder.

"You'll learn that I have some rules," Peter said. Gently running his hand down Neal's arm. "The most important one is that you have to let me take care of you. Got it? The bed's not just there so I can tie you to it, you know. And we can swing by June's on the way in to work tomorrow so that you can change your clothes." Neal looked confused. And nervous. And like he was about to try and bolt.

"If you let me take care of you," Peter said, "I'll give you a blowjob." Neal's eyes went wide. "You let me help you into the shower, and feed you some dinner, and tuck you into bed, and tomorrow morning I'll suck your dick. Now. Do we have a deal?"

Neal grinned at him. "You drive a hard bargain, Agent Burke." And then Neal kissed him. It would have been chaste if Peter's come hadn't been drying on Neal's lips. Peter licked it off and then licked his way into Neal's mouth.

He took the nipple clamps off, then. While Neal was relaxed and comfortable in his arms. He cried out when Peter slowly unscrewed the clamps. It must have been excruciating. The blood flowing back into them after being so tightly held, a rush of new pain through an already oversensitive body. His hands were bruise-tight on Peter's biceps, and he held Neal through it as best as he could.

"Fuck," Neal hissed, dragging in a shaky breath.

"Imagine what it'll feel like when we get them pierced," Peter said. Neal's cock twitched where it lay across his thigh. "When I put a chain through the loops. I'll be able to pull as hard as I want."

"If you're not going to fuck me," Neal said, "then you have to stop saying shit like that."

Peter grinned. "It's a deal. Now come on, let's get you in the shower. And then you can turn those puppy dog eyes on El. If we're lucky, maybe she'll make us dinner."

Neal let Peter help him stand and hobble to the bathroom. He left Neal there with the shower running and went out to the hallway. He let himself collapse a bit, then. Slumped against the wall and held his face in his hands.

El found him like that. "Did something go wrong?"

He shook his head. "It went – it went right," he said. And felt miserable about it. El looked him over and then pulled him into a tight hug.

"I'm not letting go of you, Peter Burke," she said firmly. "I'm not losing you, and I'm not going to let you get hurt. So don't you _dare_ feel guilty about what happened. You needed that," she said, and then paused. "You _need_ this," she corrected, before kissing him carefully.

"This is going to be complicated," he warned.

She smiled at him. "You're just now figuring that out? You're not always the brightest bulb in the chandelier, are you?"

"Can we really do this?" he asked.

She reached up and cradled his face in her hands. "I think we owe it to ourselves to give it a damn good shot."

He put his hands over hers and let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Something tight and apprehensive in his chest finally let go. "He was beautiful," he whispered.

"So are you," she replied. And he held his wife and waited for his lover and felt safe and loved and wanted. Together, they'd give it their best shot.


End file.
